The Light Inside
by Valairy Scot
Summary: During the holiday season, QuiGon discovers that his new and young padawan understands that the greatest gift one can give another is that from the heart.


_Prologue: _

_  
It was nearly Winter Solstice, and the days were short. Across most of Coruscant, lights burned more brightly than usual. In the more prosperous areas, the extra illumination came from seasonal lights and extravagant displays. In other areas, the light of the season shone in less visible ways: not blaring for recognition, but within the hearts and souls of those beings who had little else to offer but their time and small deeds of caring._

With a hollow clang, some object of unknown origin battered against durasteel bars and skidded off down the street, chased by other detritus blown about by the wind. The boy turned his head to look, but saw nothing he needed to be alert to. He frowned a little, but had no other reaction. At his side, his adult companion appeared not to hear, with not even a twitch of a hand to betray otherwise.

Elsewhere, not far from this quiet place of deepening twilight, cheery lights twinkled in festive apartments and ostentatious displays of seasonal extravagance decorated public buildings. From somewhere out of the mists of time, a tradition decreed that twinkling strands of light mark this season to brighten the long, dark evenings. Coruscant was never truly dark these days, with the lights of never-ceasing traffic and lights from the many buildings, but the tradition had continued.

A tradition that was fast fading away was the celebrating of the season with the exchange of small gifts to family and close friends: crafted, baked, shaped by sentient hands for the delight of others, its purpose the recognition of and cementing of social ties and family bonds, dating back to a forgotten time when the planet had been largely rural. Gift giving, once of the heart had become of the purse -almost a competition now - the more expensive, the better was the new way of thinking taking hold.

The simple ways had been within the reach of all, purchased in the coinage of love and affection. A pauper or a politician, each had the same coinage.

No longer.

Simple joys, bright smiles, genuine delight was too little found as citizens bustled, hustled and tried to outdo each other. A consequence, an evolution some might say while others would not, of the growth of the Galactic Republic. As the Republic had grown, so had its center of government, and on Coruscant the once pastoral fields had been replaced years ago by one huge city that had grown to encompass the entirety of the planet. Recollections of grassy fields and living in rhythm with nature's cycle reigned in the memories of no one living.

As the planet was increasingly paved over, built upon and up, the Republic's richest and most powerful beings had gravitated to it. Some had made it _home_, some only took up residence: competition became more common than cooperation. Those earlier traditions of simplicity had become public displays or grandiose displays of wealth. The Senate Building was resplendent with imported displays; the Senators and staff harried with preparations for forums to gather prestige and gain influence – these professional gatherings masquerading as holiday parties.

Winter Solstice was a season of gaiety, bubbling laughter and cheeriness; a bright and sparkling veneer overlying reality for those with plenty and seeking more. For those with too little, it remained less spoiled, truly the time to celebrate what little they had and with whom they shared it and happiness was genuine, if fleeting.

Between these two worlds stood those who had something to share and chose to do so; giving of their time, their credits and their abundance, each as they could. In them, the ancient spirit of the season reigned supreme.

The Winter Solstice holiday was fast approaching and the very air of Coruscant seemed charged with anticipation, of joyful celebration or the release from its stress. It seemed only the Jedi remained unaffected by the glitter and dazzle of spectacle and display.

The Jedi Temple held itself aloof from these newer traditions, foregoing the gaudy new traditions fast replacing the simple traditions of times fading away. Simple, homemade decorations adorned small spots and small lights or candles were placed in residence quarter windows by those so choosing. The Jedi celebrated with a festive dinner, and a day of freedom to do as one chose – no classes, no meetings, and no duties to attend to, unless absolutely essential. Many choose to spend it elsewhere, helping and giving of themselves.

The season was one of extremes, depending where on Coruscant one lived, or merely existed. It was a time of exuberance and joy, or stress and bustle. A time of cheery lights or dark shadowed places. A time to celebrate, or a time for despair and hopelessness.

Here in this forgotten and desolate section of Coruscant, the season's festivities were something that belonged to another world and other beings. The wind howled with a keening moan of despair through the street canyons, dirty flakes swirling in the frigid air and scattered debris skittering across pavement and bouncing off dingy walls.

This was a part of Coruscant that few beings, other than those unfortunate enough to live there, ever saw. It was bleak and uninviting, a world of gray and black shadows with few spots of brightness to break the gloom. Aging buildings were grimy with stains of unknown origins, and many were boarded up. Here, there was no true or false cheer, fantastic decorations, or parties. Yet here remained some of the earlier traditions amongst some of its less desperate inhabitants.

It was no place few would willingly live in. It was not a place for children. Yet, one walked here behind its adult companion, not at all afraid, but uncomfortable with the shadows and cheerlessness of the place, so opposite to what the child was familiar with.  
For the adult, the place held no fear, only wariness. Qui-Gon Jinn was quite familiar with the place and its inhabitants. A big man, imposing physically, he was also a Jedi, and the way he strode along with his lightsaber hanging ready at his side warned any being thinking of mischief that it would be best to do one's deeds elsewhere. Rare it was, here in this place of miscreants and the pitiful, the poor and the forgotten, that this guardian of peace needed to enforce it.

"Master, there's no holiday lights here," the eight year old child broke into a skip every now and then to keep up with the adult's long strides. The child sounded sad as though the absence of those bright lights was a thing to mourn. In a way it was, for the child was full of light: light nurtured him and darkness shied away. Earlier in the day, he had been fascinated with the bright lights in another section of the planet; now he was seeing another side.

The Jedi looked down and smiled in understanding. "No, Obi-Wan, most of those who live here are too busy surviving to take time to erect fancy decorations to celebrate Winter Solstice. They keep more to the simple traditions. For many of them it is hard enough to feed themselves or find somewhere warm to sleep."

"Why?" It was a child's innocent question. Obi-Wan was a Jedi Padawan now; he was not completely sheltered from the world but he had little life experience outside the serene walls of the Jedi Temple. His master had decided it was time to take his new Padawan out for a local field trip and introduce him to a wider world. They had been wandering the streets for several hours, and the Jedi had decided on a last minute detour to check in with an old friend. The shortest way to their amended destination lay through this forbidding place.

"Patience, Padawan," the Jedi suggested with a slight smile. "When we get to our destination, you might observe why for yourself."

"Yes, Master," the boy said obediently. He wondered why they had come on foot all this way, but his master always had a reason for all that he did, even if he didn't bother to explain it.

Young Obi-Wan was uncharacteristically silent as he tagged along behind the adult, curious eyes in constant motion about him. The older Jedi had quickly learned, despite their few months together, that long periods of silence were not a usual occurrence with the boy. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the boy's face was solemn with his attempt to understand this place.

He chided himself even as he smiled: the lagging steps, the silence – the boy was tired and hungry, but valiantly trying to understand what he was seeing in case there was a lesson to be learned. Perhaps they should not have gone so far and for so long. That was something he would have to adjust to, again, that of recognizing a young Padawan's needs.

Though Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan had not observed his quick look back, apparently he had, for his brow furrowed and he asked, a bit hesitantly, "Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" the Jedi stopped and waited for the boy to catch up to his side. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, he smiled down into the upturned face. "You wish to know if we are returning to the Temple? I should have realized you are tired and hungry after all this time. I have forgotten what it is like to be a young boy."

"No, Master," he shook his head, though his look brightened at the mention of food. "I was thinking, and wondering..."

"Wondering what?"

The boy stared at the toe of his boot hesitantly, and struggled to express himself, suddenly blurting out, "Why some people go hungry, or without shelter. Those beings we passed back there – I sensed so much despair in them, yet elsewhere people are celebrating and almost too happy."

Qui-Gon kneeled down to look the boy in the face. He chose his words carefully.

"Some beings choose to live outside society's social net, and some – well, life was unkind to them. They have nowhere to go, so they live on the street."

"Master? Is it okay…?" the boy's words trailed off.

"Is it okay, what, Obi-Wan?"

"To feel…I feel sad for them," Obi-Wan said softly.

"That is kind of you."

"But kindness doesn't change anything, does it? Are we not supposed to do something about it? Aren't we supposed to help those we can?"

Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled at the boy's little speech and earnest eyes. He pulled the boy into a hug. "Spoken like a Jedi, Obi-Wan, but not everyone can be helped."

"I understand, but can't we help those we see who need help?" The boy's look was almost pleading.

"What would you have us do, little one?"

"I don't know," the boy whispered and looked hopefully up at his master, confident he would have an answer. "They look so shabbily dressed, and they don't feel happy. Could we bring the pretty lights to them? Would that make them happy?"

The little face was so earnest, that Qui-Gon had to stifle a smile in case his young charge thought he was laughing at him. In truth, he was deeply touched by the child's compassion.

"Were all the beings happy where the lights where?" he asked, nodding gently in agreement as Obi-Wan shook his head. "You see, my young Padawan, having lights or not doesn't make one happy or not. It's what light shines in here," and he touched the palm of his hand to the boy's heart, grinning as the boy looked down with wide-eyed wonder.

"There's light in there?" he blurted out.

_Indeed there is_, Qui-Gon thought, _the Light of the Force shines brightly in you, my young one_, but all he said was, "Don't you feel it?"

A small hand overlapped his master's; a look of great concentration covered his face.

The boy finally nodded slowly and pointed to Qui-Gon's own chest. "It shines in you, too, Master," he said solemnly.

"As two beings of light, then, we will do what we can do," the Jedi promised, deciding to postpone his planned detour. "Today, I think it's time we returned to the Temple before you get any more tired or hungry." He hoisted the child to his shoulders and Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his neck and snuggled against him.

Once again, Qui-Gon felt a little thrill of pleasure go through him. He had had one Padawan before this, and he had not as quickly touched his heart as this young boy. Young Toklus had been knighted and on his own for a couple of years now. Qui-Gon had adjusted to being on his own and hadn't been in any rush to choose another Padawan.

As it turned out, Obi-Wan had chosen him.

**Chapter 2.**

Over a last half year or so, Qui-Gon had hung around the Temple at Yoda's behest, looking over the initiates, but prepared to wait another year or two before making any decisions as to whether or not he would take another Padawan. From the beginning, Obi-Wan had charmed him. He had not been awed by the several adult Jedi there to look over the young initiates, as the other initiates had been.

Qui-Gon remembered the young initiate as a small child of four or so, walking up to him one day and announcing that one day soon he was going to be the Jedi's "padwan." His current Padawan had been with him, and given the child a dismissive stare that had amused Qui-Gon, one reason he had remembered the incident. He was sure that Toklas remembered it, too: he had been the recipient of a light lecture about his lack of courtesy. Toklus had been quite embarrassed at his possessiveness of his master when gently reminded of his need to be civil to all.

The boy seemed just as solemn as he had years ago, though the Initiate Master had whispered to him that the young boy could be a bit of a handful of times. The way she had chuckled and looked fondly at the boy told Qui-Gon much about his temperament.

The boy had been practicing a lightsaber drill with another initiate, forehead creased in concentration and lips pushed out. He was trying hard, that was very apparent, too hard in fact. He reached so hungrily for a connection to the Force, that he squeezed it away from him. Qui-Gon wanted to go over to him and tell him not to try so hard, to relax and let the Force flow through him, but instead watched with a grin on his face and his arms crossed across his chest.

Yoda had come into the room and watched the exercise, turning to glance at Qui-Gon. His ears curled and he let out a small grunt, preparing to say something, when the match ended as the other initiate took advantage of Obi-Wan's loss of concentration, for the boy had looked to the side as he became aware of Qui-Gon standing with Yoda.

The lightsaber instructor gave a gentle reminder with a slight clearing of her throat, and Obi-Wan turned back to the other initiate for the obligatory bow marking the end of the match. There was a slight flush of shame on his face for his loss, for he had been ahead on points until he had lost to the other initiate. Catching the instructor's smile and tacit permission, he had bowed to the two Jedi, then come right over to Qui-Gon and said with quiet certainty, "You're going to be my Master."

Yoda had "hmmphed," and quietly slipped away, his Force presence radiating quiet approval.

Qui-Gon had grinned at Obi-Wan's unusual approach and asked the child what made him think that. Without hesitation, he said, "You're supposed to be. I know that." His eyes, so trusting, looked deep into Qui-Gon's with a strange mixture of joy and sureness. Even the Force shone through him at that moment.

When Qui-Gon had looked into his own heart, he knew it, too, and before he quite recognized what he was doing, he was committed to his second padawan, and indeed, quite content that events had played out as they had.

For the next several weeks, he had gone around the Temple with dancing eyes and an ill-concealed grin plastered across his face, for which he took quite a bit of good-natured teasing from his friends. He endured it all with good cheer, and took delight in getting to know his new padawan. Toklus had made a point of dropping by to greet the boy, and charmed him with stories of his time with Qui-Gon and made up stories that had Obi-Wan's eyes wide with wonder, though he had sneaked a grin at Qui-Gon during some of the stories to show he saw through the more fantastical stories.

Qui-Gon had settled back in his chair and watched with great humor as his former Padawan "taught" the new one ways to circumvent his master's wishes. Obi-Wan had glanced over at him several times, half afraid that his master would be disapproving. When he saw Qui-Gon's huge smile, his bashful grin exploded into a brilliant smile that held the light of a hundred suns.

"Oh, my eyes, my eyes…your weapon has blinded me!" Toklus pretended to be blinded and reached for the boy, tickling him, and letting himself be vanquished in the wrestling match that followed, with Obi-Wan triumphant and giggling as he sat on the young knight's chest, "pinning" him to the floor.

"Jedi don't giggle," Qui-Gon weighed in, and Obi-Wan sat up with a worried look on his face. He wanted to be a Jedi more than anything and didn't want to do the wrong thing. Taking advantage of the distraction his former master provided, Toklus slid out from under the boy and tackled him with a whispered, "Lose your focus, lose the fight, young padawan brother."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. Lessons were taught in many ways. He wanted his master to know he was a serious Jedi apprentice and understood. Qui-Gon and Toklus studiously avoided looking at each other, amused at his suddenly earnest demeanor yet not wanting to laugh at him.

The playful boy would all too soon be submerged in the hard work of a Jedi padawan, so Qui-Gon did his best to ease the boy into his new role. Few Jedi initiates became apprentices as young as Obi-Wan; ten to twelve was far more common and that's when the more intense and serious training began. Qui-Gon could neither indulge the boy in play that he would soon have to leave behind or rush him too young into training. His role was, after all, to guide and teach his padawan to knowledge of the Force and the ways of the Jedi, not to become as a father or favorite uncle to the boy.

He kept his early lessons simple, preparing the boy to see the wider world outside the Temple walls. Taking his padawan out to "see the world," would teach the boy many lessons without the appearance of instruction, for Obi-Wan was quick to observe, think and understand what was going on around him.

One thing the Jedi had quickly learned was that his new apprentice had a hearty appetite for both food and knowledge. He was fearless, but rarely reckless, tending to cautious observance before jumping into anything unfamiliar. Once he had committed to anything, recklessly or cautiously, he dove in with total concentration, almost to the point of excluding anything else.

Qui-Gon had decided "moderation" was something he would need to teach the boy. Since Qui-Gon himself was not known for a moderate approach to things, this was going to be a new experience for the both of them.

**Chapter Three**

Several days after that outing, Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan back to the bowels of Coruscant, his less than affectionate nickname for that part of town, to meet a friend of his, this time taking a somewhat more direct route.

"Is he a Jedi?" Obi-Wan asked with interest, when informed of this.

"No, not at all," Qui-Gon laughed. "Though his heart is as big as a Jedi's, he's a bit of a reformed rogue and genuine good being."

Obi-Wan absorbed this information with a small frown that Qui-Gon had learned meant his apprentice was deep in thought. Qui-Gon watched, amused, as Obi-Wan looked up with a bright smile and nodded. The boy was quick; he understood the implicit lesson intended: that beings could change and should be judged on their heart and not past actions.

In the flat gray light of a cheerless day, with cold rain splattering against the pavement and all color washed from the air, the two walked down the street, huddled within their cloaks and hoods pulled close around their heads. Qui-Gon half expected his young apprentice to complain of the cold and wet, but he had forgotten the simple delight a young boy took in stomping through puddles and splashing about.

"Don't get too wet, Obi-Wan," he cautioned the boy. "I don't want you in wet clothes all day. Maybe we can find a big puddle for you to splash in back in the Temple gardens later, where you can dry out afterwards."

"Yes, Master," the boy agreed, and with a quick glance upwards with mischievous eyes, he walked with exaggerated caution through the next puddle, to break into an impish grin as Qui-Gon merely shook his head, wry amusement quirking up the corners of his mouth.

"Here we here, my young one," the Jedi put a hand on the boy's shoulder as he was about to pass by a storefront tucked into the middle of one block.

"A diner? Dex's Diner?" Obi-Wan's eyes were big as he registered the sign on the window of the building that his master indicated he was to enter. He turned his face up to his master's in puzzlement, to be met by his master's amused grin.

"Go on in," he indicated to the boy, holding the door open. "Hey, Dex!" he bellowed as he followed.

A huge head poked out of the kitchen, and the mouth opened in a wide grin of welcome, showing a mouthful of teeth. Dex was a Besalisk, a huge being with four arms and a large head. Large jowls hung below a wide mouth spanning the width of the face, and his eyes were set wide apart under big brow ridges on the creased face. His head rose to a narrow point.  
"Qui-Gon, no surprise to see you!" he roared, and as he noted the small boy next to the big Jedi's side, he lowered his voice from a roar to a growl. "Got a new apprentice with you, eh? Come on in, boy, come on in and make yourself comfortable. I'll be right out in a minute."

Qui-Gon pointed Obi-Wan to a seat on a tattered though mended seat just as the big being pushed through the swing doors and enveloped Qui-Gon in a huge hug that could have broken his bones if the intent were hostile. To Obi-Wan's amazement, his master was pounding the big being on the back in return. He had never seen his master so demonstrative before this and stared in wonder.

"Dex, you old reprobate!" Qui-Gon was greeting his friend, before pulling away and directing his attention to the wide-eyed boy. "Dex, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my new Padawan as you've already guessed. Obi-Wan, this is Dexter Jettster."

"Pleased to meet you, boy," Dex tried unsuccessfully to lower his roar into something less intimidating, and offered one of his four hands gently, prepared for the boy to recoil at the sight of that huge, beefy hand coming at him. To his surprise, the boy let the big being grab his hand without fear for a quick shake, and then quickly bowed as his hand was released.

"Pleased to meet you, Dex, sir," he said in a child's high voice, with no trace of anxiety or fear.

"Ho, ho, you've got yourself a brave one there, my friend," Dex remarked to the Jedi. "Polite, too. Are you here to help, too?"

For the first time, the boy looked uncertain. "Help with what, sir?"

"Dex – call me Dex," the being corrected him. "Help with the holiday meal. You mean Qui-Gon here didn't tell you why you're here?"

"No, I didn't," Qui-Gon interjected. "Don't worry, Dex, he'll be a lot of help." Turning to Obi-Wan, he explained, "Dex always puts on a big feed for the needy at certain times of year. I always come down and help him unless I'm off planet. You said you wanted to help those you could, so I thought I'd bring you with me. When you get tired, you can rest in a corner."

"I won't get tired, Master," Obi-Wan promised with a child's certainty. "I want to help. What can I do, sir, uh, Dex?"

"Why don't you get out the plates and utensils, and put them on that big table there," Dex pointed. "Qui-Gon, you can help me finish getting the food ready – but only if you promise not to burn anything."

"Me?" Qui-Gon's eyes were dancing with mirth. "That was, I believe, your fault and it didn't spoil the food any, thankfully." The two disappeared into the kitchen, talking non-stop.

"Hey, Qui, did I tell you I'm moving to new digs shortly? This'll be the last meal you'll be helping me with in this 'ol dump."

"Going somewhere more respectable?" Qui-Gon's laugh was muted as the kitchen doors swung shut behind the two of them.

Obi-Wan set out utensils and dishes as instructed, whistling softly and occasionally glancing up as hearty guffaws floated from the kitchen. Several newcomers, one a blue- skinned and one a faintly red-skinned Twi'lek, and a green skinned Rodian entered the diner, shedding outerwear, glancing curiously at the young human boy working so diligently. They called greetings to Dex and entered the kitchen, their voices joining in the mirth that was there. Without surprise, Obi-Wan realized the five-some were well-acquainted.

Once he was done, he sat on a seat and looked the place over. The diner may have been shabby, but it was well-tended and clean. Small seasonal lights were draped around the serving table, which was set up buffet style. Tables were scattered randomly around the room. Tantalizing smells drifted into the room from the kitchen, making Obi-Wan feel hungry.

Shortly after, beings of many species started drifting in, though most were human. Dex, Qui-Gon and the others brought in heaping bowls and platefuls of food which they set on a long table. Once the table was full, Dex raised two of his hands for silence.

"Friends, thanks for coming. Now, come get some food and sit yourselves down," he roared with a genial smile.

"Come, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon gestured to the boy. "You can help serve; let me get you something to stand on so you don't have to reach so far."

The gathered folks stood in line, thanking Dex for the free meal as they passed by. Obi-Wan watched with wide eyes as they passed down the table's length, each expressing gratitude. When he was thanked for helping, a big grin split his face and he looked over to his master, who nodded back at him with a pleased smile.

When everyone was served, Qui-Gon indicated he was to fill a plate and eat himself. Obi-Wan eagerly helped himself to a bit of everything and found a quiet spot to sit. He caught bits and pieces of conversation around him, and noticed that, at least for the moment, the folks around him were happy and grateful for the food and companionship. The despair he had found so depressing a few days earlier here in this part of the planet was, for the moment, alleviated and replaced by contentment. And in a small boy's heart, happiness was paramount.

Obi-Wan licked his fingers and curled in his cloak, pleased that Qui-Gon had allowed him this experience. As uninviting as this district was, its inhabitants were no different than other folks, just in sadder circumstances. Obi-Wan wished he could do more to help them. It seemed such a small thing to help just one day; he hoped he and Qui-Gon could do more. It was a boy's hope, for hope alone would not change everything around him. But, for the moment, he was happy to have helped in even a little way.

Qui-Gon brought a plate of food with him, and sat down by his young Padawan for his own quick meal. He looked at Obi-Wan and sensed the boy's quiet peace and joy. The boy looked at him and then around the room.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Master," he said. "They're happy, at least right now. It feels good."

"It does feel good," the Jedi affirmed. "We both wish we could do more, I do understand, my young one. But we do what we can. As does Dex, and many others like him."

"I like him," Obi-Wan said simply. "He would make a good Jedi. He's nice to people."

"Who, Dex?" Qui-Gon chuckled. "He'd never go for the discipline a Jedi practices, but yes, in many ways, he's better at helping folks than many Jedi. He only answers to himself."

"But…Master! We answer to the Force!" Obi-Wan was confused.

"To the Force, and to the Senate," Qui-Gon replied. "Sometimes, the two don't agree. We are, um, obligated to follow the will of the Senate, but too often, its will is lacking and nothing gets done. That is why we often do things on our own; even now, we are not here as representatives of the Jedi, but for ourselves."

"I – I think I understand, Master." Qui-Gon could see the boy was trying to comprehend. He knew that true understanding would bring regret; he had been through this himself years ago. He had long ago given up suggesting the Jedi Council try to break free from Senate oversight. Indeed, doing so would bring its own problems. He recognized that and had accepted it.

He still wished he - the Jedi – could do more. He also knew that it was up to other beings to bring change about, too. Obi-Wan would learn all this, someday. But for now, he didn't want to disappoint a child's dream. Time itself would do that.

Very gently, he said, "You have a very big heart, my Padawan. Just do what you can, when you can, and be satisfied that you were able to help, even if it's only one being at a time."

"Okay. I'm finished eating, Master. What can I do now to help?"

"How about you carrying some of the dishes and things into the kitchen, young Obi-Wan," Dex suggested from across the room. He exchanged a grin with Qui-Gon as the boy scrambled to his feet and raced to the table. "He's a good 'un you've got there, my friend. Bring the boy down to the new place, I'll be sure to have something he likes available whenever you stop by."

"Cocoa! Or Muja Juice!" the boy cried out with a giggle, blushing at Qui-Gon's look and quickly disappearing with his arms laden with dishes. Once he was out of sight, Qui-Gon let loose the laugh he was stifling.

"Guess I now know his favorite drinks," he said with a sideways glance at Dex. "I'll have to stock up. I thought the boy liked the tea I've been giving him. He never once said anything."

Obi-Wan made several trips back and forth with leftovers and dirty dishes, as the fed folks gradually drifted away from the diner, their gratitude all the recompense Dex needed. As he took another load of dirty dishes into the kitchen, he was in time to see a small hand grab a plateful of leftover roasted Ewibird, and the hand and plate go out the door.

"Master?" he called, standing indecisively, but the Jedi and Dex were deep in conversation in the diner and did not hear.

With just a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan raced out the door in pursuit, to see a small boy in shabby clothing, about his own age, disappear around the corner. He was angry that someone would so abuse Dex's good nature by stealing, when Dex had been giving meals away, that he didn't stop to consider that running off in an area unknown to him wasn't wise. Chasing a kid in unfamiliar territory, in the dark as it was now, gave him not a moment's pause in the heat of the moment.

The child he chased was agile and knew the territory well, but Obi-Wan had the Force, though his connection to it was tenuous, at best, at his young age. They scrambled up a ladder on the side of a building and raced across its roof, down a dingy stairwell from the roof and out a broken window, around corners back on the dark streets until the child disappeared down a dark alley. He sensed the boy had holed up somewhere nearby; either that, or had gotten clean away.

Obi-Wan hesitated then, his common sense kicking in. He didn't know where he was, and Qui-Gon didn't know he had even left Dex's. He could get in serious trouble here, and he had lost his quarry.

"Master?" he thought with some anxiety. "What should I do, Master?" He couldn't be sure, but he thought there was no reply through the Force. He thumbed his comlink and tried that means of communication, but again, there was no reply. With a little sigh, he squared his shoulders. Well, he had gone this far, he would go forward.

He stepped into the inky darkness.

**Chapter 4**

As Obi-Wan's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that the small street he was entering was more like an alley. It stank, of old garbage and urine, of alcohol. Obi-Wan wanted to gag, but he resolutely pushed the feeling away. He probed with all his senses, a doorway to his left, boarded up, a trash container to his right overflowing with things he'd rather not try to identify. Ahead, and to his left, a tangled mass of discarded crates – and in them, he saw a flash of human flesh.

Reaching for his courage, Obi-Wan crept forward and peered inside. With a defiant cry, the boy he had been following shrank away from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Obi-Wan said quickly. "You stole food from Dex's. Stealing isn't good."

Slowly, the boy's arms lowered, and he looked ashamed. "My mama told me never to steal, but I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten in several days."

"Several days?" Obi-Wan exclaimed in amazement, and his anger quickly dropped away. He noticed the boy was shivering in badly mended clothes and his feet might as well have been bare, his footwear was that worn, tied together with bits and pieces. At this look, the boy curled into himself and stared at Obi-Wan with a challenge flashing in his eyes as he wolfed down the last of the food from the plate.

"You're a Jedi kid, aren't you? Live in that Temple of yours, all pampered and happy, right? Well, life's not so good for everybody else. Maybe I should let you turn me in to the local authorities – at least I'd get warm shelter and food if I was arrested."

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan was confused.

The kid looked Obi-Wan up and down and his lips curled in scorn. "Some of us don't have such a nice life as you, kid. Welcome to my home, such as it is. I'd share my dinner with you, but I've eaten it all. Sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all.

"You…you live here? Why? Where's your family?"

"I have no family," the boy muttered. "Mama died a few months ago. Here's where I live now."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said softly. He didn't know what else to say, until he got an idea. "There's a group that finds homes for, ah, kids without a family. Until they find homes for them, they take care of the kids. Haven't you heard of it?"

"Don't need no one to take care of me," the boy muttered angrily. "I take care of myself."

"Yeah, by stealing and living like this," Obi-Wan retorted. "Look, there's help out there if you ask for it. Just ask anybody – any Jedi, any security person."

"I don't trust anyone," the boy blurted. "Not even the Jedi."

"Hey, why not!" Obi-Wan protested, hurt at this slight. "We help people."

"You help the rich, not us ordinary folks," the boy spat. "You Jedi in your big Temple, fed and clothed by the Republic, at the Senate's beck and call – what do you know of the real world? You Jedi just ignore us folks here, just like them politicians."

Obi-Wan drew back, a little hurt and a little angry at the accusation. He tried to remain calm as Jedi were supposed to do. Trying to sound reasonable, he asked, "Then why was my master and I helping Dex feed people? I admit I didn't really know folks like you existed until now! I'm just a kid, still, and the Jedi do care."

The boy's eyes dropped, and he muttered a rude apology under his breath. "Okay, maybe some of you Jedi ain't so bad, but most of you don't ever come around here where some folks could really use their help. None of you helped my mama and she's dead now; no one even cares. What killed her is still around, killing other folks."

"I…I'm sorry," Obi-Wan muttered. He couldn't imagine what loosing one's mama would be like. How would he feel if his master died? Especially if he was kicked out of the Temple, the only home he knew. He didn't like that thought at all and shoved it away. "Maybe my master can help."

There was no question about the scorn in the boy's eyes. "Mama wasn't killed by no man, Jedi boy. She was killed by hard work and too much spice. I told her to stay out of them places…but she said she would do – even that – if it kept me fed."

Obi-Wan kept silent. He didn't know what to say, and the boy seemed to be releasing pent up feelings. He ignored the comlink trying to get his attention, this was too important to interrupt. He hoped Qui-Gon would understand.

"She…she hired herself out to…to…folks, 'cuz she couldn't get any job anywhere, and the only thing she had to offer was…was - ."

Suddenly the boy seemed to realize what he was saying and he shut his lips, refusing to reveal his mother's shame to a stranger, especially a boy his own age, even a boy who seemed shocked and yet, somehow, understanding. He refused to look at Obi-Wan and folded his arms obstinately.

Obi-Wan felt helpless before this grief; all he could do was sit quietly and think of

something to say, but he didn't have the right words. Finally, he repeated the name of the group he had spoken of earlier.

"Look," Obi-Wan said earnestly. "Think it over. Contact them, or you can reach me at the Temple by asking for me – I'm Master Jinn's apprentice – Obi-Wan Kenobi. He'll help you, too. Or Dex, he'll help. He's the guy you stole the food from. Don't you know, he was feeding folks who needed food tonight? All you had to do was show up. You

didn't have to steal. There's plenty of folks who'll help you if you ask. Please. Think about it."

He reached for the empty plate. Knowing he could do nothing more at the moment, he backed out of the makeshift home and hesitated. The boy was scared, he was cold and alone. Obi-Wan had done all he could for him – or had he?

A Jedi was supposed to be selfless, to help those he could.

He made a sudden decision, something he could leave as a parting gift. He turned to leave; pretty sure he could make his way back.

**Chapter 5**

"Obi-Wan?" the Jedi called softly, insistently into his comlink. This time, there was a reply.

"Master?" the boy said. His tone was hesitant, as though he expected a tongue-lashing.

The Jedi's heart gave a great leap of joy and he smiled with relief. His voice harsh with worry, he asked, "Where are you, Padawan? I've been worried about you. You took off without a word and didn't contact me. That was wrong of you."

"I…I'm sorry, Master. I didn't think I was gone long. I don't know where I am, exactly, but I know how I got here, so I'll retrace my steps."

"Keep in touch with me, Obi-Wan," the Jedi warned gently, stifling an urge to tap his fingers against his leg, or even race after the boy. His Padawan was certainly dutiful, he had to admit, reporting each corner he went around, when he was going up a stairwell, across a roof, down a ladder. At each report, Qui-Gon waited anxiously for the next report, or the arrival of a small boy he had come to care for very much. He didn't know if he would shake the boy in exasperation, or hug him in relief when he showed up.

Finally, the Jedi's pacing ceased as he heard soft steps coming towards him. He whirled, dropping to one knee to greet the boy. One look at him and any lecture he was going to give the boy for running off went out of his mind.  
"Obi-Wan, you're shivering and you're all wet. Come here, child," Qui-Gon insisted. "Padawan, you've lost your cloak again."

"No, Master," his teeth chattered.

"Jedi don't lie, Obi-Wan. You're always losing your cloak, so it's no big deal if you have lost another one, other than leaving yourself unprotected in the cold. It is a big deal to lie, if you have."

The boy shook his head, turning beseeching eyes to his master. "But I truly have not, Master Qui-Gon."

"Then where is it? And where were you and why didn't you answer the comlink?" The Jedi stooped down and searched the boy's face, for the answer was not immediately forthcoming.

"I gave it…to a boy who had no coat," Obi-Wan confessed shakily, looking up through an errant lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes, seeing if Qui-Gon was angry. But the Jedi was surprised, not mad.

"That was kind of you, Obi-Wan, though perhaps not well thought out. What if you catch a cold in this weather?

"Then I am sick for a few days in my comfortable bed. But that little boy could spend all winter outside with no protection. He lives in crates in an alley and has to steal for food. He stole a plate of food from Dex and I wanted to make him give it back. I was mad at him but now I feel sorry for him, and we Jedi are supposed to help people. A cold would be a small price to pay to save just one life, would it not?" His eyes were pleading for acceptance of his decision.

Touched deeply, Qui-Gon scooped the boy into his arms and straightened as Obi-Wan tightened his arms around his neck and smiled contentedly. As he stood upright, he saw the boy's bare feet swinging free.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, your boots! Did you give them up, too?" he asked with a mix of dismay and pride. The boy nodded and buried his face deeper against Qui-Gon's shoulder, mumbling something that Qui-Gon interpreted as, "not sorry, even if they weren't mine to give."

"That was very foolish of you, yet I'm very proud of you, child," Qui-Gon whispered in the silky tousle of red-blond hair tucked under his chin. "You gave what you had to give without thought of yourself. I'm sure your teachers will be very proud of you, too."

"No...no, Master Qui-Gon, I didn't do it for credit. Don't want… praise," he trailed off as he yawned and snuggled deeper into his master's warm embrace. "Did it, 'cuz I could. 'Cuz I want to be like you. 'Cuz I'm a Jedi."

"That you are; my foolish young apprentice. What did I do to deserve the training of one such as you?" He did his best to hide his pride in the boy, for Obi-Wan certainly didn't need to be encouraged to be so – imprudent – in helping others. He was entirely too fond of the boy; he needed to remember he was supposed to instruct Obi-Wan. This urge to help others had to be discussed, and Obi-Wan's instincts tempered with good sense and his master's firm guidance.

But that would have to come later, not now.

Qui-Gon carried the boy into Dex's, and sat him on a bench, removing the plate in his hand.

"Dex, I've got him," he shouted. "Will you bring him something hot to drink? He's wet and cold from being outside in the rain."

"Right away," Dex boomed back, and shortly strode out of the kitchen, a mug of cocoa looking very tiny in his huge hand. He stood over the two Jedi, as Qui-Gon rubbed Obi-Wan dry with towels.

"Hey, Obi-Wan, glad to see you back, kid, you kinda had your master worried there for a while." He winked at the boy.

"Are you mad, Master? I'm sorry." He looked so woebegone that Dex turned away to hide a grin.

"I'm upset that you took off without a word to me," Qui-Gon admitted quietly, a frown creasing his brow for a moment, before he smiled. "But I'm happier you're back okay. You won't do something like this again, will you?"

"No, Master, unless the Force tells me to," Obi-Wan shivered.

"It had better ask me first," Qui-Gon grinned. "Warming up any?"

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan sat up and reached for the cup that Dex had been holding so patiently. He sniffed, and with a joyful shout, exclaimed, "Cocoa! Thanks, Dex."

After Obi-Wan had drunk the cocoa and his shivering had ceased, Qui-Gon sat next to him and pulled the boy against his side, wrapping his arm around the boy's shoulders. He asked for the details of what happened. He exchanged looks with Dex as the story unfolded; it was apparent that Obi-Wan didn't know exactly what the boy's "mama" had been doing to survive, but they knew. It was an old story, unfortunately.

"Why didn't you answer your comlink, Obi-Wan?" the Jedi asked at the end of the story.

"Cuz…I thought he needed to…to talk…and he wouldn't've if I'd started speaking to you," Obi-Wan answered. He screwed his face up and stared miserably at his master. "I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry that I made you worry; I've let you down, haven't I?"

His lips quivered as he tried to hold back tears. Qui-Gon patted his back and held him close and whispered in his ear, "We'll talk about all this another time. You're had a pretty big day. I think it's best to get you back to the Temple and into a nice, warm bed as soon as possible."

"With - ?" Obi-Wan whispered, his voice muffled against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The Jedi looked at Dex, an eyebrow raised.

"With cocoa! Sure, I'll send some back with you," the big guy said as gently as he could. "I'll keep an eye out for that boy; I think I know what alley you tracked him to. Maybe he might be interested in helping me out here until I get me some more droids. I have a lot of contacts –." he looked aggrieved, as Qui-Gon snorted – "maybe I can get the kid some help."

Obi-Wan lifted his head, "Oh, thank you, Dex." He beamed his bright smile.

"Thank you for helping me and all them other folks, my new young friend," Dex winked at him. "With that smile and that heart of yours you'll be a great Jedi someday. Like your master, 'ol Qui here. Don't let them sourpusses up at the Temple, um," Dex coughed at a look from Qui-Gon that would have flayed a lesser being. "Here, this cocoa should make you a few cups until Qui-Gon stocks up."

Qui-Gon tucked the pouch, a bit awkwardly, into a pouch on his belt, shifting Obi-Wan momentarily to do so. That done, he wrapped his cloak around them both, making sure the bare feet were covered.

"Guess you get carried back," he teased Obi-Wan, who smiled and relaxed into his master's arms.

"Bye, Dex," they both called as they left.

"Bye, my Jedi friends," he boomed after them. "You tell them other Jedi they should be down here helping like you two."

"Didn't you know – Mace and some of the Council were helping at a even lower-class place than this," Qui-Gon shot back over his shoulder. "You're not the only decent being in this sector, my old friend."

Dex's laughter followed them out into streets that seemed less dreary for the spirit of giving unto others that spilled from the open door.

**Chapter 6**

Qui-Gon rather hoped he could get Obi-Wan back to their quarters without being noticed, but it was a forlorn hope. He had to assure several Jedi that Obi-Wan was fine, not at all injured in some way. He wasn't sure that he wanted to explain what had really happened, and Obi-Wan had asked that he not. He caught a quick glimpse of Master Yoda at the far end of a cross corridor, and kept his gaze affixed straight ahead. Finally, they reached their quarters. He tucked Obi-Wan into bed. After a cup of cocoa, he sat by the boy's bedside until Obi-Wan fell asleep.

He still couldn't believe this marvel the Force had sent him. He had been deeply attached to his first padawan, but this, this was so much more. He foresaw a long and happy partnership for them; he looked forward to seeing Obi-Wan grow into adulthood. This boy would grow into a man he would always be pleased to call friend. He didn't need the Force to tell him this; his heart spoke instead.

Because of this, he would have to tread carefully and make sure that both of them understood their roles in this partnership. He was to instruct and Obi-Wan to learn. That was primary, and affection for the boy could not color how he treated him. Obi-Wan had acted with the best of intentions – to help others – but he had not informed his master or kept in touch. That would have to be addressed so it would not happen again. He couldn't ignore that, no matter how much he wished it could.

But tonight – tonight, he could let it go until tomorrow, and sit at the side of his sleeping padawan, grateful he was safe and proud of his compassion, and bask in the simple delight of knowing this kind child was his to guide to manhood. He looked forward to the journey.

Finally, he turned out the light and retired to his own room.

In the morning, he looked in to see that Obi-Wan was still asleep, though he was usually awake before this. He smiled indulgently; he would let the boy sleep, and call his instructors to let them know he wouldn't be in class.

That done, he fixed himself a cup of tea, then left to visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains as he did every morning when he was at the Temple. Down the pathway, he saw Yoda's head swivel at him and the little Jedi beckoned to him with one hand.

Obviously, Yoda had seen him carry Obi-Wan in the prior evening and wanted to inquire as to what happened. Obi-Wan didn't want the story told, and as much as he could, he would honor that request.

Though Obi-Wan didn't want any recognition for his kind deed, Qui-Gon would make sure that the senior Jedi were made aware of the boy's compassion.

"The dinner went well as always, yes?" Yoda greeted him with a swivel of his ears as he smiled. He knew where the two had gone, and what they had done, and it had his full approval. Some years he joined Qui-Gon. "How went your first 'mission' with young Obi-Wan?"

"Quite well, Master Yoda. That boy has the makings of a fine Jedi. While I don't think his strength will be his connection to the Living Force, he has extraordinary compassion in him, even at such a young age."

"Surprises me that does not," Yoda nodded gravely, understanding something more had happened than just helping out. "Of some specific event or other, you speak?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "He does not wish to be recognized for what he did, but I do think you should know."

"Ah, wants his good deed to be its own reward, he does. Curious I now am."

"As you know, I took Obi-Wan out to the 'gutter' to see another side of Coruscant a few day ago. Obi-Wan was quickly distressed by the conditions and wanted to help."

"Told him I am sure, that not all can be helped," Yoda observed.

"Yes, then he asked couldn't we at least help those who we saw in need. I could not tell him no, so as you know I took him with me to Dex's last night. He, well, he disappeared and when he showed up, well, to make a long story short, I found he had given his cloak and boots to a boy he found freezing, living in a box in an alley. When I tried to scold him, he said if he caught cold, it would be a small price to pay to save one beings life." Qui-Gon's pride was apparent in his voice.

"Surprised I am not. Your little one has deep feelings, Qui-Gon. Both a strength and weakness it is. Teach him well, teach him to balance his heart and mind you must, else too much heartbreak he will have in life."

Yoda's words almost sounded like a warning. Qui-Gon stiffened and looked at Yoda, who met his eyes with his own, and shrugged. "Possible futures, I see," he said simply. "Guard him you should. The lessons he learns now strongly impact his possible futures."

Qui-Gon bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Will he be happy?"

Yoda stood up and looked at the Jedi with calm eyes. "Happy he will be, yet much sorrow will he have, too. How much of each, I cannot tell. Watch him, I shall. Why you carried him back home last evening, I now know." With that, the little master turned and walked away. Qui-Gon stared after him, vowing to do his best to guide Obi-Wan's life onto a joyful path.

During dinner, Obi-Wan picked at his food, rather than inhaling it as he usually did. Qui-Gon found his eyes going to his padawan's face every so often. The boy's eyes were dull and he looked tired.

"Are you feeling well, Obi-Wan?" he finally asked, when Obi-Wan turned down dessert.

"My throat feels tight," he confessed, looking worriedly into his master's eyes for his disapproval. Instead, he found only compassion in those blue eyes.

"Oh, Padawan, you are getting that cold I worried you would. Go over to the couch and lie down. I'll get some hot tea – no, cocoa - ready for you."

"Yes, Master," he said obediently, and shuffled slowly to the couch. Qui-Gon tucked a blanket around his shoulders and smiled at the boy before getting the drink ready. He returned to the couch and sat next to Obi-Wan, drawing the boy against him with one arm. They remained that way, in a companionable silence, until Qui-Gon looked down to see that Obi-Wan was asleep. He brushed his hair back from his forehead, and then carefully stood. Gathering the boy, blanket and all, he carried him to his bed and tucked him in.

As he left the room, he turned and looked at the sleeping boy. "Pleasant dreams, Obi-Wan. Child, I hope a cold is the worst you suffer in life. Sleep well, Padawan." He turned out the light.

In the morning, he looked in at the boy, who was sprawled in his bed, his bedding twisted around him. He tiptoed over to the bed and straightened out the sheets, then left the room for his breakfast.

He carried a tray of hot food into the boy's room a while later and sat by Obi-Wan's bedside until the boy stirred, yawned, and rolled over.

"Morning, Obi-Wan," he said cheerily. "How bad do you feel today?"

"Schtuffy," he mumbled. "My nos' is't all schtuffed up."

"You just stay in bed today and rest, Padawan. I'll bring you some datapads to read."

"Musht I study my lessons?" Obi-Wan grumped.

"If you wish," Qui-Gon replied with a wink, only to have Obi-Wan groan and roll away from him. "I'll bring you some fun stuff to read later on."

"Tell me stowwies?" Obi-Wan asked hopefully. "When you wast my age? What wast your Mahsta like – wast he nice like you?"

At the innocent question, Qui-Gon had to smile, though he tried to hide it. "My Master is a very nice man, but he's a bit – stiff and proper. Strongly principled and a real stickler for the formalities. You haven't met him, I think; he doesn't want to train any more padawans so he hasn't spent any time with young ones like you during his time at the Temple."

"You were his lahst padawan, wehren't you, Mahsta? Is't that why he dihn't want anothe' one?" Obi-Wan looked at his master with a big grin on his face.

"I am sure that had something to do with it," Qui-Gon admitted. "I am sure he is watching me to make sure I get as much grief from you as I gave to him."

"I can twy, Mahsta." The boy's mischievous eyes glinted at his comment. Qui-Gon just ruffled his hair.

"You can try, my little one, but I'm sure I already know all the things you can possibly do to aggravate me. I was quite the little troublemaker at your age. Master Dooku surely tried to give me back any number of times."

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide with alarm and he whispered anxiously, "You can giff me bahk?"

For just a moment Qui-Gon was tempted to answer "yes" in jest, but he did not think the boy would appreciate the joke – they had not been together long enough to understand each other's humor instinctively. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and was careful to meet his eyes as he said firmly, "I will never give you back, Obi-Wan. I'm so sorry; I was making a joke and didn't mean to worry you."

He smiled reassuringly at the boy who stared uncertainly at him for another moment, before breaking into a relieved smile that turned into a smile of total joy as he threw himself into the Jedi's welcoming arms and looked up into Qui-Gon's deep blue eyes with eyes full of trust and love. Qui-Gon marveled at the pure radiance of that smile.

He had seen the boy's grin many times, but these times when his full smile blossomed it outshone even the light of the Force. That was all he needed from his young charge, these precious smiles which he would treasure in his heart. He wanted to nurture that soul which could produce such a dazzling monument to joy and his heart ached with its simple beauty.

"I –." Obi-Wan stopped before saying it, in words, what his eyes had already shown. He knew the Jedi rule on attachments, and expectations of keeping one's emotions under control.

"I, too -." Qui-Gon said, and hugged him "I'm keeping you, Padawan."

This, truly, was the spirit of the season: the light and love that one young boy shared so freely. This was the only gift Qui-Gon wanted; it was the gift he was blessed with.

27


End file.
